Waiting game
by Anassat
Summary: Haytham is waiting at the port, but Connor just doesn't show up. He has other business to attend.


Haytham was annoyed. He had been waiting at the docks for hours, expecting to see Connor walk in at any moment. But no. The boy was nowhere to be found, seen or heard and Haytham began to seriously consider he was toying with his father. That annoyed him quite a lot. Connor wouldn't be able to find Church without him, and he made him wait?

"Oh, fantastic" Haytham mumbled when the first drops of rain fell on his hat. The people on the streets of New York started to move indoors, but, stubbornly, Haytham stood still, only crossing his arms and walking closer to the pier. He wouldn't give Connor the satisfaction of making him seek shelter. That rascal had already given him the type of attitude he normally would not tolerate but this time let it slide. He had to keep his relations to his son as good as possible or their affairs would not turn out good. No matter how soaked he would get.

He soon realized how cold the rain was. Lightnings struck to the sea miles away and the cold wind and rain beat his emotionless face. Men taking care of the ships on the pier looked at the man curiously and confused, soon hurrying inside, safe from the icy rain and wind. Haytham bit the inside of his lip. Connor better show up soon.

After another two hours of standing on the pier, the rain finally stopped and people started to show up on the streets again. "Did you hear? At Fort Washington! They say that some wildling took it over all by himself, and they're marching out the redcoats!" an excited man said while jogging past Haytham who immediately looked to the two men running past him.

"One man? You're insane! Who told you this?" the other one asked.  
"Everyone! You'll see – the place is now in patriot hands!" said the other man, grinning from ear to ear, and then the two ran away. Haytham turned around – legs aching – and started walking in the direction they went. Soon even more people started going the same way, all repeating the same lines. "Did you hear? The patriots took over Fort Washington!" some man said to his friend. "I heard it was a ghost!" a younger lad gasped in excitement and his two friends laughed. "There ain't no such thing as ghosts!" the other one grinned. "Where did you hear that from, old Glenn from the pub? That man claims he once saw a pig grow wings!" laughed the third man, silencing the young fella.

"I saw it with my own eyes! An American flag in the pole and everything!" someone said when Haytham walked past him. On the streets everyone was talking about the same thing, some with more words, some with less, but the message was clear – Fort Washington was in patriot hands, all thanks to this "ghost", or "wildling" or "spirit" or "wolfman". Haytham sighed deep. He was almost sure who to blame. He borrowed a steed near the docks and rode off to see this event himself.

They weren't lying.

The redcoats had left already. The fort, built from stone, armed with cannons, surrounded by water, walls unbreachable – had been taken over. The American flag in the flagpole left no doubts, as in the blue coats of the soldiers didn't give a hint clear enough.

Haytham stood there with his horse, and then he saw him. Connor himself, walking out from the fort, unharmed but his white suit completely drenched in blood splatters. The patriots greeted him, laughing and singing mocking songs about the redcoats, someone with the hat of the captain. They threw it around for a while until it fell to the ground and was then stomped into a shapeless muddy rag as the patriots gathered to the walls to whistle at the redcoats marching by and to pat Connor in the back.

Patriots cheering, Connor walked away like a performer from a succesful performance, no doubt pockets full of money. It damn near boiled Haytham's blood, but he stood silent, waiting for Connor himself to notice him. But, as to rub salt in his wounds, the assassin brazenly walked past him with his chin up, only looking at him for a second.

And giving Haytham a cheeky smile before vanishing into the back alleys.

Haytham looked at the American flag in the flagpole. Sometimes he really wanted to strangle the kid.


End file.
